My turn to donate to The RE’s kids’ college fund

I look back on where I’m from, look at the woman I’ve become,
and the strangest things seem suddenly routine.

–“Wig in a Box,” Hedwig and the Angry Inch

It’s strange how quickly you get to a place where conceiving naturally seems like such a foreign concept, and going to the doctor becomes your norm. Just add it to the family to-do list. So I did my usual today, visiting The RE for IUI #4.

The Husband went and did his thing at 9 a.m., then I showed up at 10 a.m. and was taken back almost immediately. The RE said the post-wash count was 17-million, and they look for anything above 12-million, so we’re okay there and he was happy with that. There was a doctor-in-training dude there today (resident? intern? not sure) who was going to do the IUI, but he had trouble positioning the speculum, which has always been the case, I’m told because the orientation of my cervix is a bit off from norm. He said to The RE, “I think we’re going to need the tenaculum.” I’ve heard that the tenaculum HURTS, so I was glad when The RE said he’d give it a try first, and with some manipulation that was a bit uncomfortable, he finally managed to get it in place. Whew! This time I could feel the poke of the catheter inside my uterus, which made it cramp for a few minutes, but it was fine by the time I left there. I laid on the table for five minutes, then was allowed to get dressed and leave.

I did ask about timing for next month if it falls over the Thanksgiving weekend (and then probably again over Christmas weekend). He said they’ll do IUIs over the weekend but try their hardest not to do it on Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day. They also will not do monitoring over the holiday weekend when they’re closed, and if the timing continues to be the same, it’s likely that BOTH would fall over Thanksgiving weekend — plus there’s the element that I’m not even sure if we’re going to be here that weekend. So I asked about taking a couple weeks of birth control pills to manipulate the cycle and switch the timing so it’s not over the upcoming holiday weekends, and he was perfectly fine with that if that’s what I want to do. So if I get to cycle day 1 again, I’ll take a couple weeks of BCP, get a new period, and that’s the one we’ll use for the next cycle. I hate anything that delays all this even more, but I think it’ll be worth it to avoid the stress of figuring out how the timing is going to work out around the holidays during an already stressful time of year.

So now I’m back at that place where I’ve found myself so many times before. And I hope in two weeks, I find myself in that place where I’ve rarely found myself. The Nurse asked me today, “Do you feel like it’s your lucky day?” and I replied, “Geez, I hope so, because I’m certainly due for some good luck here!”

The return of The Night Fairy

Bedtime battles had reached an ear-shattering crecendo in the few months after Baby B turned three, and we got to the point where something had to give. With a feisty three-year-old, we had plenty of other battles on our hands at the time, so we temporarily shelved the bedtime battle, taking turns each night lying with Baby B until she fell asleep, even though that meant sometimes we were stuck in there for up to two hours as she tried to settle in.

Knowing that we couldn’t (or rather, didn’t want to) keep this up long term, the initial plan had been to break the habit by associating it with a big milestone instead of just randomly. So we had decided that when Baby B turned four, we would use that birthday as a reminder to her that four-year-olds don’t need their parents with them to go to sleep. We had not mentioned this plan yet to Baby B since it’s still three months away and I didn’t want to induce anxiety too soon about the upcoming change.

On Saturday, out of the blue (so much from three-year-olds is completely out of the blue), she asked me, “How come The Night Fairy doesn’t come here anymore?” We’d used The Night Fairy as a tool for getting her to stay in her room at the end of last year, but with the amplified three-year-old battles, that became a lost cause and she stopped coming to our house. I wasn’t intending to introduce the Night Fairy again, but I went with it.

I explained to her that for a while she’s had trouble going to sleep by herself, and The Night Fairy comes only when she doesn’t come out of her room and goes to sleep on her own, so she hadn’t been to our house in a while. She declared, “I want her to come again!” so I said that I would give The Night Fairy a call to see if she’d be willing to come back if Baby B did well at bedtime. I made this faux phone call in front of Baby B, who then listened to me explain the rules as told to me by The Night Fairy: At bedtime, she gets to read one story with both of us, then she’ll go potty and go back to her room to read one more story with one of us (alternating each night so we get some alone time with her), then she had to let us leave without any resistance and had to stay in her room the whole time until she finally fell asleep, even if it was really hard to fall asleep. I asked if she was willing to do that, and she said yes, though of course I was skeptical.

But I’ll be damned if she didn’t do perfectly on Saturday night. And Sunday night. And Monday night. Tuesday night she had two times where she called in The Husband for random, unnecessary things, but it was still a success, and on Wednesday night she was perfect. We can watch her on the video monitor, and she “reads” in her favorite storybook for a bit (translation: she analyzes all the illustrations in the book and concocts approximately 15,345,657,378 questions that she asks us next time), then tries to settle in to sleep. She has some tossing and turning, but you can tell she is trying so hard, and I’m so proud of her. We also get to observe some funny moments again as she does things like encourage The Dog to lie down “because if you don’t, then the Night Fairy won’t come to our house!”

I’m certainly not declaring the problem solved quite yet — in fact, I’ve probably jinxed it just by writing this! But it’s yet another reminder of a few key facts in parenting: Do what you have to do. Trust your instincts. And things always change — often for the better.

Wordless Wednesday: She’s tree!

Another day, another scan

I went for my follicle scan this morning, and overall it went well. This time I asked to be seen on cycle day 9 (usually they do day 10, 11, or 12), since last time I was just hours away from ovulating when I had my scan on day 11 and thus would have missed IUI timing if we’d been going for that then.

I have one follicle on each side, though this time I didn’t even bother asking the sizes — seriously, what’s the point? It’s not like it even matters if I know, as it doesn’t change anything I have to do. He did say I have a small follicular cyst on one side that seems to be resolving itself, but he does not think that should affect my chances this cycle. I reminded him I’m paying out of pocket and do not want to waste the money if my chances aren’t maximized, but he seemed confident it wouldn’t affect anything.

I do the trigger shot on Thurday between 6 and 8 a.m., The Husband has his andrology appointment on Friday at 9 a.m., and I go in for the IUI that morning at 10 a.m. I was very relieved to find out the timing of this because it was looking as though the IUI might have been on Thursday. On a normal week, that wouldn’t be a big deal, but this Thursday morning is Baby B’s trunk or treat at preschool, where the kids dress up and get to go trick or treating at all the decorated cars lined up in the parking lot. It’s one of my favorite events all year, and I would have been sad to miss it. I’m okay with doing the whole doctor thing to conceive, but when it starts to mess with things we want to do with/for Baby B, that’s when I’m not as okay with it. Thankfully that won’t be an issue this cycle.

**********

I did realize something quite frustrating, though. I have to ask The RE if they still do IUIs over holiday weekends because it looks like timing would work out next month such that an IUI would fall over Thanksgiving weekend GRRRRR! Even if they do them on holiday weekends (doubtful), I’m not even 100% sure yet if we’re going to even be in town, so it may not even matter. Oh, and if timing works out that way, then it’s also very likely that IUI for December would fall over Christmas weekend. They do IUIs on regular weekends, but I really suspect holiday weekends are different. So potentially missing two treatment cycles…great. I mean, we’ll still try on our own, but we see where that’s gotten us thus far. I know, I know…you’re thinking maybe this IUI will work and it won’t even matter. I’m trying hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of that thought.

Heart-wrenching

Late last week, Baby B and I were in the car together. Out of the blue, she said, “Hey, Mom. You wanna know what I’m gonna be when I grow up?”

“What?” I asked, certainly curious about her future plans.

“A sister! I’m gonna be a sister when I grow up.”

Oh. Hrm.

Holding my composure, I say, “Oh yeah? Well, that sounds like fun!”

Then, hushed as though she was telling me a secret, she said, “You know all those times I pretend to be a princess? I’m really pretending to be the sister.”

Did you hear that? It was my heart breaking into a billion tiny pieces.

She then declared, “When I’m growed up, and I’m a sister, I’m still gonna be silly. Did you know that?”

Unable to avoid the warm tear that I blinked out of my eye, I said, “I know you will, baby. I know you will.”

All the while desperately hoping the day never comes when we have to tell her that she will not be a sister (and why). I can ultimately deal with my own dreams being pulverized. It might be too much for me to see hers succumb to the same fate.

Wordless Wednesday: THIS tall this fall!

The blackjack cycle

Cycle day one was indeed yesterday as expected, so I’ve got an ultrasound scheduled for a week from today to check follicle status. Usually the office does ultrasounds on cycle day 10, 11, or 12, but since my scan on day 11 last month showed I was mere hours away from ovulation, I asked to come in on day 9 since I don’t want to miss our timing for an IUI. If we’d been planning to do IUI last month, the cycle most likely would have been canceled because it would have been cutting it too close.

Come on, lucky 21. (Surely I’ve got some good luck stored up somewhere, right? I would like to use it now, please.)

**********

As  yesterday was the start of a new cycle, it was also an occasion to drink some alcohol. I thought I woke up hung over this morning (too old to drink on a weeknight or something), but now I’m thinking I managed to catch the stomach bug that is going around Baby B’s school (and had her sick at home last week). I stumbled into work at 11 a.m. since it’s a busy week and tried to meet someone for lunch, but that didn’t go so well and by 3 p.m. I was home and puking again. Oh, and did I mention that The Husband was home all day today with the same stomach bug — and he didn’t drink a drop of alcohol last night — so I’m thinking it’s the bug and not my old age showing. I managed to eat four slices of canned pears for dinner tonight, and I’m just about to go to bed. I’m still not feeling great, but I’m hoping I’m on the upswing. Everyone else who has had this bug has been sick for about 12 hours and run down for about 24, then fine after that. I hope that’s the case for us too — and that we don’t pass it BACK to Baby B!

The usual

It’s negative at 14 days past ovulation, so now just waiting for the formality of starting the next cycle (probably today). Back to IUI next cycle. How laughable to think we might have been able to avoid doing that this time around.

I’d feel angry or frustrated, but honestly I’m too emotionally spent from all of this to feel much of anything anymore. Deflated covers it pretty well.

It’s funny…I’ve used the term “mythical child #2” since before we were trying for our second child, mostly as a way of talking about the potential future child without having people think I was actually pregnant at that time. But it certainly has turned into a mythical child in many more ways. We’re seeking our unicorn. Trying to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The funny thing about myths, though, is they are wonderful to ponder but fail to materialize in the end.

Remembrance

Today, on Pregnancy Loss and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, I curse the fact that I even have to know what this feels like — the pain, the frustration, the hopelessness, the unfairness, the upheaval –yet take comfort in the fact that we are not alone.

We are not alone.

Wordless Wednesday: Sky high

Being a mother

Being a mother is more than just giving birth to a child or receiving a phone call from an adoption agency.

It is finding and conveying the life lesson that surfaces when your child makes strides forward and then stumbles.

It is showing your child that her choices and actions have consequences — some good and some bad — and reminding her that she needs to take responsibility for those choices and actions, no matter the outcome.

It is leading by example rather than requiring your child to “do as I say, not as I do.”

It is instilling in her a sense of self-confidence that is strong enough to withstand the daily bombardment of “you’re not good enough” messages that are pervasive in our society.

It is helping your child make sense of a world that doesn’t make much sense sometimes.

It is teaching another person about the power of unconditional love.

It is having the conviction and strength to make the choices that are right for your family, even in the presence of others who may disagree with your choices.

It is showing your family how much fun living life can be.

It is knowing that you continue to gain wisdom even as you accumulate parenting mistakes.

But most of all, it is putting your child first…but without putting yourself last.

Ponderables

There is nothing that makes you realize how little you really know than when a young child asks you a question you can’t answer. I’ve observed this phenomenon countless times as an outsider, listening as befuddled parents make up an answer (that’s not even close to reality) and move on, and long ago I vowed to never do that. We live in an age with information readily available, and even if I can’t instantly answer her question, we can certainly come up with a reasonable answer together first, then delve into it a little more later. I know that’s impossible to do with every question she asks, but I want to make a reasonable effort, especially with the more important or complicated questions.

Truth is, I secretly love it when Baby B stumps me with a question. Sometimes it’s because I’ve forgotten what I learned long ago (“How do bees make honey?”) but other times because the question never even occurred to me in the first place. But I love it most when she points out a flaw in logic or notices something that happens in a story that isn’t possible.

For example, we were reading “Cinderella” the other night, and she asked, “Why doesn’t the shoe that she left behind disappear at midnight with everything else?” Oh, well, that’s because…um…well…hrm. Hey, YEAH!! Why didn’t that shoe disappear with everything else? And it turns out? A basic Google search reveals a few others asking the same question, but no one else can come up with a solid answer. And I’m just baffled because I’ve always accepted this crucial plot point without a single question, and here is Baby B right on top of it.

She’s also started taking an interest in words and the meanings behind them, which very much pleases her mother the journalist and her father the English major and resident word nerd etymology fan. This morning on the way to school she asked The Husband where the word “penguin” comes from. He thought she was asking a simple, straightforward question and told her it was a bird, and she said, “But what does it MEAN? The WORD?” This stumped even The Husband, until, of course, he looked it up when he got to work. (In case you’re on the edge of your seat, he says it’s of unknown origin, possibly from Welsh, pen = “white”, gwyn = “head.” The word was first used for the giant auk, which became extinct, and was transferred to the penguin we know now. And giant auks had a prominent white mark on their heads.) He was successfully able to answer her next question of where the word “car” comes from.

It makes me very proud when she comes up with questions like these, as a large part of my job is spent looking for inconsistencies and flaws in fact and reasoning as well as not just reading words but also fully understanding them and the fuctions they perform in a bigger piece of writing. This takes a certain degree of critical thinking, and I’m so glad to see her practicing this essential life skill.

Developing Plan B

As we near the end of the road on this journey for a second child, I find myself looking for ways to cope with that possible conclusion. Ultimately, I know we’ll be just fine as a family of three; it’ll just take a little time to readjust the dream I’ve had for my family for as long as I can remember.

So to that end, I’ve started making a list of the things we can do in the next couple of years if we are unable to expand our family.

As just a sampling, the list includes such things as:

*go to Cedar Point with friends
*make a return trip to DragonCon
*take a big trip as a family, like San Diego, New York City, or a cruise
*change the extra bedroom/would-have-been nursery into a guest room or a play room

But one thing keeps nagging at me. I’d decided a while ago that I’d maybe like to attempt a full marathon after having my second child. With that looking unlikely with each passing month, I’ve started to ponder whether I’d still like to tackle that after we’ve moved on. We’re also running into a bit of a time crunch, as Baby B starts school in August 2012, and once that happens, we can’t just take off for a long weekend anytime we want since I would never pull her out of school for such a thing. As most races are held on Sundays, that doesn’t leave much time to get back home in time for school and work.

If I ever do a marathon, it’s basically a one-shot deal for me — no repeat performances — so I want it to be big. Like BIG BIG BIG. Running in Nowhere, Montana just isn’t going to cut it. (My apologies to the fine folks in Montana. I’m sure you put on a heck of a race.) The New York City Marathon would be my ideal, but the 2011 race falls the same weekend as our biggest race weekend at work, so that would not work at all, if I even got into the race (entries are awarded via lottery, though I’m told they try to get as many first-timers in there as possible). There is a slight chance the weekends might not overlap in the future, but it’s impossible to know at this point, and aside from that, the next race after that is in November 2012, which again puts us into the zone of Baby B being in school. So that’s a bust.

The next one I’m considering, which is more realistic, is the Marine Corps Marathon in DC in late October 2011, so almost exactly one year from now. By the time registration opens in April, we should be pretty well wrapped up with treatments and I should know whether this is something I’d be able to commit to. (And even if I ended up pregnant on my own after that — HA! — it would still be possible for me to do it.)

Another option worth considering is the Walt Disney World Marathon in Orlando in mid-January 2012, and then finally do the whole Disney thing with Baby B. (Of course, doing the parks after running a marathon seems like unnecessary torture.) I’d planned to go to Disney only once — when Baby B is old enough to remember it — but I’d consider making an exception and taking the trip earlier than planned if things worked out best for that plan.

If I did either of these — and that’s still a big IF at this point, as I’m just pondering possible activities for the future … no actual plans being made yet — I would incorporate a run/walk interval training program that has you completing the race with intervals of running for four minutes followed by walking for one minute. This training regimen is supposed to be much easier on the body, which is a big plus for me after the knee and shin issues I had training for my half in March. There would be no speed records set, of course, but I think I could complete the race in this manner within the required 6 1/2-hour time limit (and there’s a longer time requirement for the Disney race).

I just feel like if we’re not successful in having a second child, I want to do something significant as a big “eff you” to infertility and as a symbol of moving on. Perhaps it will be this, perhaps it will be something else I come up with. All I know is that I desperately hope that all of these potential plans have to be abandoned in the near future.

Wordless Wednesday: Pretty in pink

McMarketing genius

Yesterday at preschool, there was a note on the activity summary board explaining that the class had talked about restaurants and menus that day. Part of this discussion included a poll of the kids’ favorite restaurants, which McDonald’s won by a landslide. Knowing that Baby B has never eaten at McDonald’s, I asked The Teacher out of curiosity what she’d said was her favorite, but she couldn’t remember right away.

In the car, I said, “I heard you were talking about restaurants at school today. What did you say is your favorite restaurant?”

She pondered for a bit, then proclaimed confidently: “Old McDonald’s!”

Incidentally, the McDonald’s people are GENIUS if they can convince a kid who has never even been there that McDonald’s is her favorite restaurant!

(Her correct answer, for the record, would be Arby’s. We struggle with fast-food restaurants, which are often a necessity for us when on the road, because she’s picky and won’t eat things like chicken nuggets, burgers, or other typical fast-food fare. Put a regular roast beef sandwich in front of her, though, and she goes to town. So if we have to do fast food, Arby’s is typically the first choice.)

Another shot

I went for my day 11 ultrasound this morning at 10:30. It’s a mix of good news and not-quite-as-good news.

I have only one dominant follicle, on the right side. It is huge, measuring 26x28mm. He expected it to pop within the next couple of hours.

The problem: We haven’t done anything yet, as I was told to wait for my ultrasound first. Argh!

I joked, “Well, I guess I’m calling The Husband to come home for lunch!” That got some laughs, but then The RE said more seriously that he would recommend that if at all possible. It is possible, so that’s the plan (as well as a few more times in the next few days).

Oh, did I mention that The Husband is sick with a cold? It’s no swine flu cycle, but this cycle sure does have a few things stacked up against it aside from the great follicle. (Dare I say it? Is this the one that actually works? The cycle where things haven’t gone nearly as perfectly as before? There, I actually got that out without too much laughing.)

He gave me the option of whether to still use the trigger shot or not. As of when I left there, I wasn’t going to do it, but I was thinking about it on the way home. If the cycle doesn’t work, which would I regret more: not having used it even though I already have it, or using it but feeling like it’s a “waste”? I feel like I need to maximize our chances as much as possible, so I might as well use the trigger.

I hope it’s the last one I need.

Finding acceptance

I love musicals. Love them. Since I tend to be more reality-based, musicals are my temporary escape from the real world. Generally I don’t immerse myself in completely fabricated lands and people and stories, but what I love about the musical is that it usually has roots in the reality of life while various branches extend their reach into the realm of fantasy — I mean, breaking into song about lost love or life’s dreams? — while usually returning to reality before too much time has elapsed.

So it shouldn’t be too surprising that I enjoyed Hedwig and the Angry Inch, John Cameron Mitchell’s cult off-Broadway show-turned-movie, which The Husband and I watched for the first time last weekend on Netflix. In short, the movie is about a transexual punk rocker from East Berlin who tours the United States with her band as she tells her heartbreaking life story, including her botched sex-change operation. As she tells her story to us in song from a chain of Bilgewater restaurants, she’s following the more successful tour of her ex-boyfriend/ex-bandmate who stole her songs and has achieved a greater level of fame with her material.

I’ve been obsessed with the movie and soundtrack ever since last weekend. On the surface, it’s just an extension of my love of musicals and the telling of a poignant, tragic, and very human life story. But I can’t shake thinking about it. I want to learn more about how the live show took its form and eventually was made into a movie. I want to listen to the unique soundtrack in a continuous loop, all day long. I want to search for nearby performances of the show on stage. I’ve pondered exactly what it is about the story or the characters that has captured me.

I think it’s two things beyond just loving musicals. First, most simply, I think it’s a way for me to put my energy and thought into something other than trying to conceive and the challenges that have come along with that. A good distraction, if you will.

But when figuring out the significance of something in your life, it makes sense to take a snapshot to gain a sense of where you are in your life at that moment. Right now, trying for a second child is a really big deal, and has been for well over a year and a half. I always hate to point the finger at that struggle, but it’s currently a big part of my life, like it or not. And then following the miscarriage in July, I feel like I was just on the verge of something good that was then ripped from me, leaving me reeling and angry and searching to find a way to accept that awful turn of events.

There are many messages to be taken away from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but I think one of the primary lessons is how we may not have the life we thought we would live, but we need to find a measure of acceptance in ourselves, despite our flaws, the tragedies we endure, and the things that continue to torment us. I also related quite well to Hedwig’s struggle with her ex’s greater success after he stole her songs. Hedwig feels a sense of loss at this part of her being taken from her, but she continues to put one foot in front of the other and attempts to accept that this is part of who she is.

So, on the surface, I cannot relate to botched sex-change operations or intellectual property being taken from me, but I can certainly relate to the underlying messages and universal truths that are peppered throughout the movie. It takes looking a little deeper to find the common links that bind us all.

**********

My favorite song from the movie is “The Origin of Love,” a moving ballad that details the philosopher Aristophanes’ theory of the creation of heterosexuals, lesbians, and gays and the origin of love, as he told it in Plato’s Symposium. The song and movie clip make sense in the context of the movie as it sets up some events that happen later in the movie, but I think there’s still great meaning that can be taken away from this beautiful song, even out of context.